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Renal replacement therapy associated with lithium nephrotoxicity in Australia

To the Editor: Roxanas and colleagues1 overemphasise the relative risks of renal replacement therapy (RRT) with lithium treatment. Based on the most recent Australian defined daily dose statistics, about 1150 people per million population are taking lithium,2 and the incidence rate for RRT is ≤ 0.78 cases per million population per year.1 Therefore, in Australia, the risk of requiring RRT is < 1/1470, which is considerably lower than that in Sweden (1/187).1,3 The prevalence of patients taking lithium in Australia did not change from 1995 to 2010,2 meaning that the reported increase in patients requiring RRT over that period1 is more likely due to other factors, such as changes in diagnostic categorisations,13 or other medications.

Against this low risk of RRT, lithium, when compared with other pharmacological treatments, reduces the risk of suicide, self-harm and manic relapse in patients with major affective disorder.4 The number needed to treat to avoid one suicide is about 50.4 This means that for each person in whom RRT is avoided by cessation of lithium (< 1/1470 treated), up to 30 could be predicted to have committed suicide, and a larger number could be predicted to have a manic relapse or to self-harm.

The challenge is to predict the patients with lithium nephropathy who are likely to require RRT, given the lack of certainty of diagnosis or renal prognosis for such patients.1,3,4 Certainty about a progressive decline in renal function attributable to lithium may take some years in patients with substantial fluctuations in renal function over time,5 making informed consent to cease lithium particularly difficult because of the substantial psychiatric benefits.4

Renal replacement therapy associated with lithium nephrotoxicity in Australia

In reply: We welcome valuable comments in response to our article on lithium and end-stage renal disease (ESRD).1 This is an area that warrants further discussion and additional data. Our study, the first comprehensive epidemiological analysis of the link between lithium nephropathy and ESRD in any country, indicated a progressive increase in the problem in Australia between 1991 and 2011.

We have had difficulty determining whether this increase was due to increased lithium use, given that ESRD is usually associated with prolonged exposure (typically 20 years or more) and that complete data on lithium use in Australia are only readily available since 1995.

We accept that lithium is often an effective mood stabiliser that only sometimes causes toxicity. However, we believe that prescription of a drug that can propel people toward permanent dialysis or transplantation requires caution. We therefore applaud Saboisky’s practice as a psychiatrist of conjointly managing patients with a nephrologist. We do similarly.

We also endorse the call for more accurate diagnosis of renal disease, especially as bipolar disorder is often associated with risk factors such as smoking, obesity and poor diet. Our study showed that few patients with suspected lithium-induced kidney disease undergo renal biopsy, and we suggest that nephrologists could consider modifying this deficiency.

Mental health emergency transport: the pot-holed road to care

Historically, police have had powers under successive mental health legislation to apprehend people with mental illnesses without a warrant. This is a widespread practice around the world and in all Australian states. Further, police are frequently the first point of contact for people with a mental illness in the Australian community, particularly after hours when mental health crisis team resources are limited.1 However, people living with mental illness are increasingly recognised as a vulnerable population with high rates of exposure to traumatic life events;2 and many are exposed to distressing experiences within mental health care systems. Being transported in handcuffs in a police vehicle has recurrently been reported as particularly distressing3 (see also John’s experience in the fictional scenario4). A submission to the Australian Human Rights Commission’s “Not for Service” inquiry summed up the experience within the context of perceived mental health service failures:

Because intervention comes so late, consumers and families report that once the police are involved and no matter how the police are, there is still a sense of not being treated with dignity . . . “I know when I get sick that I quickly lose insight and will resist treatment but I am sick and there I am being handcuffed by police. No other groups of people with an illness are treated like this. Why are we? Surely there can be a better way. I think it starts with me being able to say, I’m becoming unwell and clinicians taking me seriously”.5

Recent changes to legislation in New South Wales sought to reduce police involvement in mental health by expanding state coercive powers to paramedics and registered mental health practitioners. While paramedics are taking on more emergency mental health responsibilities, police involvement does not appear to have been substantively reduced. New ways of thinking about community mental health responses are required. The primary aim of this discussion is to explore factors that may contribute to ongoing reliance on police involvement in transporting people affected by mental illness, by examining the Mental Health Act and the ensuing interagency response to mental health incidents.

Current mental health legislation

Under the current Mental Health Act 2007 (NSW), police may apprehend and transport a person to a declared mental health facility (DMHF) for psychiatric assessment if the officer believes the person: is committing or has recently committed an offence; has recently attempted or is probably going to attempt to kill himself or herself or someone else; or will probably attempt to cause serious physical harm to himself or herself or someone else (s. 22(1)(a)); and that it would be “beneficial to the person’s welfare” to be dealt with under mental health, rather than criminal, legislation (s. 22(1)(b)). This is in keeping with the enacted mission statement of the NSW Police Force, which provides for “the protection of persons from injury or death . . . whether arising from criminal acts or any other way” (Police Act 1990 (NSW), s. 6(3)(b)). The Mental Health Act allows police to divert people whom they suspect have a mental illness to health system, rather than justice system, end points.

The remarkable revisions enacted in the 2007 Mental Health Act extended state coercive powers to NSW Ambulance paramedics (s. 20) and other accredited NSW Health practitioners (s. 19 and s. 23), authorising them to detain and transport people living with mental illness to a DMHF for assessment. Paramedics and mental health practitioners were given powers to use “reasonable force” (s. 81(2)(a)) and physical restraint (s. 81(2)(b)), and trained paramedics could administer sedation (s. 81(3)). Paramedics were given authority to request police involvement where there were serious concerns for safety (s. 20(2)), and both paramedics and mental health practitioners could request police assistance, where practicable (s. 21(1)).

Evaluating the outcomes of changes to the Mental Health Act

Statewide statistics provided by the NSW Mental Health Review Tribunal (MHRT)6 suggest that transport by police (under s. 22 of the Mental Health Act) has remained stable, at about 20% of all presentations to DMHFs. In contrast, transport by paramedics (under s. 20) has increased to 6% (Box). These data do not include transport by police under other sections of the Act.

The Ambulance Service of NSW has estimated that of all occasions of transporting people affected by mental illness in an ambulance, only about 2% per year involve involuntary transport (personal communication, Kevin McLaughlin, Manager Mental Health, Ambulance Service of NSW). This low scheduling rate may reflect NSW Ambulance policy that decisions undertaken by paramedics to transport a person against his or her will should be viewed as an option of last resort. Further, it may reflect people’s preference to be taken to the nearest health facility that has the resources to provide care, which may not necessarily be a DMHF if people agree to be transported voluntarily.

The NSW Police Force estimated that they responded to about 34 000 mental health-related incidents statewide in 2009.7 In 2012, there were 38 534 such incidents, with about two-thirds resulting in a designated police function under the Mental Health Act (eg, transfer from court, interhospital transport) and including about 12 000 occasions of police detaining people under s. 22 (data obtained by M I). In the 6 months to May 2013, police detained 6149 people under s. 22 of the Mental Health Act across NSW, according to the NSW Police database (Computerised Operational Policing System [COPS]; data obtained by M I). Police do not necessarily transport all people detained under s. 22. Increasingly, people detained by police are then transported by ambulance to a DMHF; however, no records of this are kept. Further, there is a significant discrepancy between the number of people detained involuntarily by police in 2012 recorded by NSW Police and the number recorded by the MHRT (12 000 v 3000, respectively) that challenges the veracity of the available data. High-quality baseline data are required for accurately estimating the extent of police and ambulance involvement in the transport of people with mental illness across regions, and for evaluating outcomes resulting from changes to policy.

Problems with the current legislation

Risk of serious harm is the guiding principle

Under the Mental Health Act, a mentally ill or mentally disordered person is a person who is suffering from mental illness (s. 14) and/or whose present behaviour is “so irrational” (s. 15) that immediate care, treatment or control is necessary to protect the person or others from serious harm. “Risk of serious harm” is the guiding principle in any decision by mental health practitioners, paramedics and police to invoke a non-consensual intervention under the Mental Health Act.

The most significant implication of the sole reliance on this criterion is that a person’s mental health must deteriorate to the point that they become a serious harm risk before intervention through non-consensual action is legitimate. At the point where a person living with mental illness reaches a point of risk of serious harm, the probability of police involvement appears to increase according to the severity of risk.

Lack of capacity is not taken into account

Decisional capacity refers in this context to the mental competence of a person to make his or her own health care decisions. Legally and ethically, it is argued that competence is essential for autonomy, as only competent decisions reflect a person’s free will.8 Two important assumptions regarding decisional capacity should be noted: first, capacity is not necessarily global to the person but may be relative to a situation or decision; and second, it is a threshold concept, perhaps best understood in terms of a degree of capacity.9 The formal assessment of capacity must be made by a trained clinician, but carers and people living with mental illness may become attuned to signs that a period of diminishing capacity may be approaching.

A strong proponent for the use of capacity as a criterion in mental health legislation, Ryan, argues that the loss of capacity is not an all-or-none phenomenon, and suggests that a range of supported decision-making processes, including advance directives, could be instigated.10 This may help fill the apparent gap in service provision between when a person loses decisional capacity and when they pose a risk of serious harm. Ryan and others have argued that using capacity to determine the threshold for non-consensual treatment would provide a legal and ethical justification for earlier intervention.10 Doctors, carers, mental health practitioners and people living with mental illness could activate a legal mechanism for non-consensual intervention for assessment before the onset of high-risk behaviour. In principle, this has the potential to increase the capacity of mental health services to assist people living with mental illness, and may reduce the necessity for emergency responses.

The Act embodies legal, not benevolent, paternalism

The current mental health laws have evolved from centuries-old English laws that originally served the purpose of protecting society (preventive detention).11 Over time, the focus became care and treatment for the person — benevolent paternalism (parens patriae)12 — by which “we decide for him as we assume he would decide for himself if he were of sound mind”.11

Under the current Mental Health Act, however, paternalism is based on criteria other than the individual’s own presumed choices. This legal paternalism, based on harm, is distinguishable from benevolent paternalism, which would be based on capacity. This is a disquieting ethical–legal contradiction deserving the attention of policymakers.

Implications for practice of the changes to the Mental Health Act

A memorandum of understanding (MOU) was developed between NSW Health, the Ambulance Service of NSW and the NSW Police Force to delineate interagency roles and responsibilities during a mental health emergency. It stipulates that police should be involved only in high-risk situations.13 Nevertheless, the capacity of the MOU to cover the complexities of real-world mental health emergencies is limited by practicalities — for instance, mental health practitioners may not be available after hours; there may not be onsite interagency agreement on the person’s presenting level of risk; nor may there be ready availability of an appropriate transport vehicle. Additionally, in the many regional and rural centres across NSW, the drive to the nearest DMHF may involve extreme distances and take a long time.

Advances in online technologies and the availability of videoconferencing call into question the transporting of people living with mental illness long distances for assessment. The Mental Health Emergency Care — Rural Access Program trialled the use of videoconferencing to provide rural and regional hospitals in western NSW with timely access to expert mental health assessments.14 Among other positive outcomes, there was a significant reduction in the referral rate (ie, transport) to the distant DMHF, from 73% to 52% of all admissions by the end of the 20-month study. The program has continued as usual practice at the trial site and is being extended to neighbouring areas.

A number of other strategies are being developed with the aim of limiting the occasions when police are the primary providers of transport for people living with mental illness and reducing police involvement to an interagency support role. For instance, NSW Health has developed a fabric mechanical restraint device that is now used by paramedics when physical restraint is required. This reduces the use of police handcuffs and caged vehicles, and enables clinical monitoring of the person during ambulance transport.

For people living with mental illness, access to voluntary inpatient services is an important consensual pathway to care; however, access is not universal. Regional and rural areas in particular are poorly served. For the foreseeable future at least, the pathway to inpatient assessment for many people continues to involve emergency transport to DMHFs. Limiting the need for police attendance may be achieved by developing a model of care that aims to prevent situations where police are involved in mental health interventions.

Ethics in practice: case scenario

In the accompanying scenario4 there is a point where John’s parents and his caseworker, Kate, are all concerned that John is showing signs of serious deterioration. At the point where Kate advises John’s parents that she cannot force John to receive care there may be strong ethical grounds for non-consensual intervention. It appears that John’s decisional capacity has been reduced by his illness, perhaps beyond the point where he could be considered competent enough to be self-determining. At this point, Kate could arrange for a clinician who is qualified to assess capacity to visit John to determine whether his decisional capacity is critically compromised. If so, the Mental Health Act could be invoked to transfer responsibility for care decisions temporarily from John to the state, to provide the care that John would presumably choose for himself were he of sound mind.

Conclusions

The issue of ongoing police involvement in mental health services beyond high-risk situations is vexed. Two major contributors to ongoing reliance on police involvement are the enacted risk-of-serious-harm criteria and rural and regional resourcing issues.

There is an ethical imperative for earlier intervention in mental health situations. While police will always need to attend situations involving high risk for any member of the community, an earlier, more therapeutic intervention is required for a person living with mental illness who is losing the capacity to determine his or her own health care needs. A legal mechanism for non-consensual assessment based on decisional capacity could be explored. People living with mental illness could be supported, during periods of capacity, to identify indicators of diminished capacity as key intervention points, and doctors making clinical assessments in chronic and potential first-episode psychosis could give serious consideration to capacity. Thinking about capacity at an earlier intervention point may reduce the number of people requiring an emergency response. Further, making telehealth programs available in more rural and regional areas could help minimise long-distance transport. The establishment of reliable incidence statistics for emergency mental health transport would enable accurate assessment of the effects of policy changes on practice.

Ideally, people living with mental illness should be able to access quality mental health services voluntarily, long before non-consensual intervention is required. Once voluntary options have been exhausted, the point at which a person loses decisional capacity may represent an earlier, more benevolent juncture for non-consensual intervention. Reaching the point of emergency services intervention in a mental health incident should be the last option along the pot-holed road to care.

Statewide statistics concerning people taken to a mental health facility under the Mental Health Act 2007 (NSW)7

Police (s. 22),* no. (%)


Ambulance (s. 20),* no. (%)


Financial year

Admitted

Not admitted

Total

Admitted

Not admitted

Total

Total no. presentations


2008–09

2712 (80%)

682 (20%)

3394 (22%)

263 (99%)

4 (1%)

267 (2%)

15 496

2009–10

2536 (74%)

889 (26%)

3425 (23%)

494 (85%)

88 (15%)

582 (4%)

15 199

2010–11

2293 (71%)

940 (29%)

3233 (22%)

669 (69%)

301 (31%)

970 (7%)

14 566

2011–12

2150 (69%)

968 (31%)

3118 (20%)

742 (73%)

272 (27%)

1014 (6%)

15 765


* These data refer to the Mental Health Act ss. 20 (paramedics) and 22 (police) only and do not include mental health transports by police under other sections of the Act, including police assistance to ambulance (s. 21), doctors and accredited persons (s. 19), carers (s. 23 and s. 26), courts (s. 33), breach of Community Treatment Orders (s. 142 and s. 58), nor voluntary or informal transports by police or paramedics. Proportion of total agency (police or ambulance) transports (under schedule) to total presentations at mental health facilities (NSW Health). Does not include people reclassified from informal to involuntary.

Potentially incapable patients objecting to treatment: doctors’ powers and duties

Occasions of potential involuntary detention of patients who refuse treatment are not limited to dramatic situations involving the police, with such unfortunate outcomes as John’s.1 Consider the following scenarios: in a coronary care unit, a man wants to discharge himself without explanation one day after having a myocardial infarction; in a general practice waiting room, a patient with a serious head injury makes for the door saying he can’t wait; in an emergency department, a young woman wakes up from a presumed overdose and demands to leave. In each of these scenarios, patients are refusing assessment or treatment, but there is reason to suspect that they may lack the capacity to refuse treatment or may suffer from a mental illness.

In this article, we present a clinically oriented guide to scenarios like these, grounded in a previously published detailed legal analysis.2 First, we describe a doctor’s powers when a patient is known to lack decision-making capacity (DMC) or is known to be mentally ill. Next, we suggest that when a person’s DMC or mental state is unknown, the law provides a limited justification to briefly detain a patient when there is a strong reason to suspect that he or she may lack DMC or be mentally ill, and when refusal of treatment may place the patient at risk of serious harm. Third, we review any duty of care that a doctor may have to act in these circumstances.

Legal powers when a patient is known to lack decision-making capacity or be mentally ill

The law places enormous emphasis on a competent adult’s right to self-determination, and an adult patient with “no mental incapacity has an absolute right to choose whether to consent to medical treatment” or refuse it.3 Most medical assessment or treatment of adults with DMC will only be lawful if it is consented to. Detaining a patient against his or her will may constitute false imprisonment.

In the New South Wales case, Hunter and New England Area Health Service v A, Justice McDougall acknowledged that when patients refused treatment, there were sometimes two conflicting interests: the competent patient’s right to autonomy; and the state’s interest in preserving life.4 In attempting to resolve this conflict, McDougall J had regard for Lord Donaldson’s comments from an earlier English case and said, all things being equal, “the individual patient’s right was paramount” but that “if there were doubt as to the individual’s expression of preference, ‘that doubt falls to be resolved in favour of the preservation of life’”.4

Under the law, all adults are presumed to have the capacity to consent to, or refuse, medical treatment unless and until that presumption is rebutted.4 A person lacks DMC to make a particular decision if he or she “is unable to comprehend and retain the information which is material to the decision . . . or is unable to use and weigh the information as part of the process of making the decision”.4 The fact that the decision may seem irrational is not, on its own, sufficient to overturn the presumption of capacity.3

Australian states and territories have guardianship legislation that provides some mechanism for substituted consent once it is clear that the person lacks DMC (Box). These statutes allow patients to be treated in an emergency, without substituted consent, where treatment is considered necessary to save the incompetent person’s life or prevent serious damage to the patient’s health. However, if it is not yet clear that the objecting patient lacks DMC — and incapacity is only suspected — these statutes do not apply.

Every jurisdiction in Australia also has mental health legislation that provides for the detention of people with mental illnesses to allow assessment and treatment (Box). Once patients are detained under these acts they may be given psychiatric treatment and, in some cases, medical treatment without the need for consent. Just as guardianship legislation provides no assistance in the management of a patient if incompetence has not been established, mental health legislation is unhelpful in the management of objecting patients if mental illness is suspected but there has been no opportunity for assessment.

Justification for restraining a patient when incapacity or mental illness is suspected

In some cases the courts have determined that it may be justified to restrain a person when it is unclear whether they lack DMC or suffer from a mental illness. In the 19th century English case, Scott v Wakem, a man with delirium tremens who was consequently likely to have been incompetent, and who had threatened to kill his wife, brought an action against the “medical man” who restrained him.5 The judge commented that, if at the time of the original restraint the person was likely to do mischief to anyone, the doctor would have been justified in restraining him, “not merely at the moment of the original danger, but until there was reasonable grounds to believe that the danger was over”.5

In Watson v Marshall, the Australian High Court considered a case where a former doctor brought an action for false imprisonment against the medical superintendent of a psychiatric hospital.6 The Court referred to Scott v Wakem and other cases7,8 and noted that, in those cases, the lawfulness of an act of restraint depended on the “overriding necessity for the protection of himself or others”.6

In these and several other cases, courts have recognised a justification for the “otherwise unlawful restraint” of a person who may be a danger to themselves and others for the purpose of an examination “by proper persons” or “until the regular and ordinary means can be resorted to”. However, this would apply only in circumstances of “obvious necessity” and “could not be extended to ordinary cases”.9

We feel that these cases provide a basis at common law for lawfully restraining a patient in circumstances where there is suspected incapacity and where the restraint is necessary for the protection of the patient or others. Restraint could be applied only as long as the necessity prevailed or until other means of consent could be resorted to.

Duty of care to provide advice, assess decision-making capacity and detain

Doctors owe a duty of care to their patients to provide advice, care and treatment. The care provided should be of a standard that would be widely accepted by peer professional opinion as competent professional practice. Doctors are also under a duty to provide patients with information that any patient would feel was relevant to the decision at hand and any other information that the doctor should have known would have been important to that particular patient (Box).10 When a patient refuses to wait for a full assessment, there is a duty to at least provide appropriate advice. In the NSW case, Wang v Central Sydney Area Health Service, the court found the health service negligent in failing to provide appropriate advice to a young man with a head injury who decided to leave an emergency department waiting room without waiting to be seen by a doctor.11

A number of cases suggest that there is also a legal duty to assess DMC where there is uncertainty about its presence and where there are potentially serious consequences if treatment is refused. Uncertainty may arise in circumstances where the nature of a particular injury (such as a head injury) or the person’s presentation (such as a reduced level of consciousness) suggests that his or her capacity may be impaired.

Ms B v An NHS Hospital Trust was an English case involving a 43-year-old woman with tetraplegia due to a cervical spine cavernoma, who sought withdrawal of artificial ventilation.12 The judge held that when there was doubt about the DMC of a patient, the doubt should be “resolved as soon as possible”, and that while the issue of capacity was being resolved, the patient should be cared for “in accordance with the judgment of the doctors as to the patient’s best interests”.12 Guidelines set out in another English case suggested that doctors should identify any problem with capacity as soon as possible and assess this as a priority. These guidelines also suggested that if there was “a real doubt as to capacity the issue should be referred for resolution by the Court”.13

In contrast to decisions involving medical illness, the courts have so far declined to find that doctors have a duty to detain a person whom they suspect may have lost DMC or require treatment due to a psychiatric illness.1416 Nonetheless, the law does not appear to be settled in this area, and it is possible that future cases may find a similar duty exists.

Conclusion

The courts place a high value on personal autonomy. However, autonomy is lost where DMC is lacking and, if this is not recognised, individuals may be deprived of necessary treatment. In cases where there is good reason to suspect that DMC is impaired and treatment refusal may involve significant risk, there is a duty to clarify the situation as soon as possible. Breach of that duty may give rise to a legal action for damages.

The law in this area is not clear, reflecting the reality that situations involving possible loss of DMC and a doctor’s duty to act are often complicated and may require urgent action. The courts have acknowledged this and recommended that doctors act in the best interests of a patient until the ambiguity can be resolved. Using the reasoning we have laid out above, we suggest the following approach when faced with a patient who refuses assessment and attempts to leave the hospital.

If there are no factors to suggest the patient lacks DMC or suffers from a mental illness, or if there are such factors but there is no foreseeable risk of serious harm to self or others, then the person should be given appropriate advice, and his or her decision to leave should be respected.

If, on the other hand, there is:

  • a known factor, such as a serious head injury, which may give rise to a lack of DMC; or recent behaviour such as an overdose which might suggest the presence of mental illness; or a decision to object to assessment or treatment that, in the context, is so unusual or inappropriate as to lead a reasonable person to suspect that the patient’s DMC may be impaired; and

  • a foreseeable risk of serious harm to that person or others; and

  • no less-restrictive way of clarifying the person’s capacity to refuse assessment or prevent the risk;

then, a clinician should detain a person for as long as necessary to minimise the risk and/or until “regular and ordinary means” can be resorted to.

There appears to be a limited legal justification to detain the patient, using the least amount of force possible and certainly no more force than is proportionate to the danger to be avoided. The regular and ordinary means would likely include an assessment, and in the event that the patient is found to lack DMC or suffer from a mental illness, provision of care under the appropriate legislative or common law provisions. In cases where there is genuine doubt that is unable to be resolved, clinicians should consider detaining the patient and seeking direction from the court or an appropriate tribunal.

Relevant state legislation

Providing mechanisms for substituted consent:

  • Guardianship Act 1987 (NSW)

  • Guardianship and Administration Act 2000 (Qld)

  • Guardianship and Administration Act 1993 (SA)

  • Guardianship and Administration Act 1995 (Tas)

  • Guardianship and Administration Act 1986 (Vic)

  • Guardianship and Administration Act 1990 (WA)

  • Guardianship and Management of Property Act 1991 (ACT)

  • Adult Guardianship Act 1998

  • Emergency Medical Operations Act 1973

Providing for the detention of people with mental illnesses:

  • Mental Health (Treatment and Care) Act 1994 (ACT)

  • Mental Health Act 2000 (Qld)

  • Mental Health Act 1986 (Vic)

  • Mental Health Act 1996 (WA)

  • Mental Health Act 2007 (NSW)

  • Mental Health and Related Services Act 1998

  • Mental Health Act 2009 (SA)

  • Mental Health Act 2013 (Tas)

Defining doctors’ standard of care:

  • Civil Liability Act 2002 (NSW), s. 5O(1)

  • Civil Liability Act 2002 (WA), s. 5PB(1)

  • Civil Liability Act 2002 (Tas), s. 22(1)

  • Civil Liability Act 2003 (Qld), s. 22(1)

  • Civil Liability Act 1936 (SA), s. 41(1)

  • Wrongs Act 1958 (Vic)

  • Civil Law (Wrongs) Act 2002 (ACT)*


* The standard of care in the Australian Capital Territory is different
(see s. 42): “a reasonable person in the defendant’s position who was in possession of all information that the defendant either had, or ought reasonably to have had, at the time of the incident”.

Reducing off-label prescribing in psychiatry

Practitioners need to consider the evidence for pharmacological options before prescribing medications off label

There are few more controversial topics in mental health than what constitutes evidence-based prescribing. Medications not indicated for common conditions like anxiety or depression, or particular age groups such as the young or old, are often prescribed for these conditions or age groups. Consequently, strident calls for clamping down on such “off-label” prescribing are common. Three drivers are behind these public and professional concerns.

First, precision in diagnostic and therapeutic practice is hard to achieve because of low reliability and questionable validity of the major diagnostic groupings.13

Second, a wide gap persists between the number of people affected by mental disorders and the number who demand and receive care.4 In Australia, the continuing growth in demand for clinical services extends across all age groups for psychological as well as pharmacological interventions.5,6

Third, there is growing recognition of the potential for longer-term harms, including metabolic complications and an enhanced risk of cardiovascular disease (CVD) that may accompany prolonged use of various psychotherapeutic drugs.7 This is especially true for the second-generation antipsychotic medications.8 The increased CVD risks may be tolerable when treating patients with major mental disorders, but if the drugs are being used for off-label purposes the risk equation is much more questionable.

The reality for much clinical practice, however, is that practitioners are largely managing individuals with prolonged and disabling symptom sets with a wide mix of psychological and medical interventions. They are doing so without the assistance of well defined laboratory-based markers of illness type, pathophysiology or indicators of response to specific interventions. They also rely on a relatively small clinical trial database for key population-based subgroups — younger and older persons, those with complex medical comorbidity or those with concurrent substance misuse.

Within this context, recent attempts by the major United States regulatory agencies to develop more precise therapeutic targets (eg, cognitive enhancement in schizophrenia9) and the National Institute of Mental Health’s promotion of a more pathophysiologically based research classification system10 offer significant hope of a move to a more solid evidence base to underpin clinical prescribing for the major mental disorders.

In the interim, however, it remains important for clinicians to maximise the use of non-pharmacological interventions for common forms of anxiety and depression and minimise the use of major psychotropic medications in situations in which there is no clear evidence from clinical trials of a clear benefit-to-risk ratio.

headspace — Australia’s innovation in youth mental health: who are the clients and why are they presenting?

headspace National Youth Mental Health Foundation is the Australian Government’s major investment in the area of youth mental health.1 The National Survey of Mental Health and Wellbeing (NSMHW) revealed that one in four young people experience a clinically relevant mental health problem within any 12-month period, compared with one in five in the general population.2 Half of a cohort of young people were shown to suffer diagnosable mental ill health at some point during the transition from childhood to adulthood, which reduces fulfilment of their potential and increases likelihood of disability and premature death.3 Australian data are consistent with international trends and the adolescent and early adult years are periods of peak prevalence and incidence for most mental disorders.4,5 Yet, despite having the highest prevalence, young people have the lowest level of professional help-seeking for mental health problems across the lifespan.2

headspace was initiated in 2006 to address the concerning mismatch between level of need and amount of mental health service use among adolescents and young adults.1 The initiative is innovative in targeting the age range from early adolescence through early adulthood, maintaining that the traditional child and adolescent versus adult service divide creates a disjunction at precisely the time when there is greatest need for continuity.6 There are now 55 headspace centres across Australia, scaling up to 100 centres in 2016.

The approach to service delivery has been described elsewhere,1,7 but briefly, headspace centres aim to create highly accessible, youth-friendly, integrated service hubs that provide evidence-based interventions and support to young people aged 12–25 years around their mental health, health and wellbeing needs. Each centre is directed by a lead agency on behalf of a local partnership of organisations responsible for the delivery of services, comprising mental health, alcohol and other drug, primary care, and vocational services. The main aim is to improve outcomes for young people by addressing the major barriers to service use for young people,8,9 and enabling better access to and engagement in early intervention services that provide holistic and integrated care.

The current study provides the first comprehensive profile of headspace clients across the entire national network of the current 55 centres. It is timely to investigate the demographic characteristics of young people presenting to headspace centres and their reasons for presentation to determine whether headspace is providing early service access for adolescents and young adults with emerging mental health problems.

Method

Participants and procedure

Participants were all headspace clients who received a centre-based service between 1 January and 30 June 2013. This comprised data from 21 274 clients across the 55 current headspace centres. The centres have been operational for varying periods of time, including 10 round 1 centres (established in 2007), 20 round 2 centres (2009), 10 round 3 centres (2011), and 15 round 4 centres established in the past 12 months.

A major review in 2012 of routine data collected by headspace found that beyond basic demographics, the information was generally of poor quality. Consequently, a new minimum dataset was implemented from the beginning of 2013. This requires young people accessing headspace centres and their service providers to enter data into an electronic form about each occasion of service. Data are de-identified by encryption and extracted to the headspace national office data warehouse.

Measures

Client demographic characteristics comprised age in years, sex, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander background, country of birth, living situation and current occupation.

Client clinical presentation characteristics were measured through self-reported reason for presentation, as well as by clinician diagnosis according to relevant World Health Organization ICD-10 classifications of mental and behavioural disorders. Level of psychological distress was measured by self-report using the 10-item Kessler Psychological Distress Scale (K10),10 while stage of illness was estimated by clinicians using the categories of no mental disorder, mild to moderate symptoms, subthreshold symptoms not reaching full diagnosis, diagnosed disorder, periods of remission, or serious and ongoing disorder without periods of remission.11 Days out of role were self-reported,12 and overall functioning was assessed by clinicians using the Social and Occupational Functioning Assessment Scale (SOFAS).13

Results

Client demographic characteristics

The proportion of male and female clients in each age group is shown in Box 1. The peak age of presentation was 15–17 years, and relatively more males presented in the youngest (12–14 years) and oldest (21–25 years) age groups. Overall, 63.7% of clients were female and 35.6% were male, with only 0.7% reporting that they were intersex, transgender or transsexual. The NSMHW showed that 30% of young women and 23% of young men had experienced mental disorder in the past 12 months.14

There were 7.7% of clients who identified as Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander, compared with 2011 census data showing that 4.0% of Australians aged 12–25 years identify as Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander.15

Clients who reported being born outside Australia comprised 7%, compared with 15% of the population aged 10–24 years in 2007–2008.16 Consistent with population trends, the most common places of birth outside Australia for headspace clients were England and New Zealand. Ninety-four per cent reported speaking only English at home, which compares with 80.3% in the general population aged over 5 years.17

Over half the clients (57.1%) lived in major cities, while 31.2% lived in inner regional areas, 9.6% in outer regional, and 2.1% in remote or very remote areas. This compares with 2012 estimates from the Australian Bureau of Statistics that 70% of the youth population lived in major cities, 18% in inner regional areas, 9% in outer regional and 2% in remote or very remote areas.18

Most headspace clients had stable accommodation (86.6%), but there were 10.3% for whom accommodation was an issue, 2.4% who reported that they were at risk of being homeless, and 0.7% who were currently homeless. This compares to 0.7% of the Australian population aged 12–24 years who were estimated as being homeless or in marginal housing in the 2011 census.19 Security of housing decreased markedly with age among headspace clients, from 94.0% of those aged 12–14 years to 81.5% of those aged 21–25 years.

Many clients were currently engaged in education, with 46.7% at school and 21.0% in higher education. Among those aged 18–25 years, 29.0% were not engaged in employment, education or training, which compares with 27.3% in the population.20

Presentation characteristics

Overwhelmingly, the main self-reported reason for young people presenting at headspace centres was having problems with how they felt (71.6%); specifically, almost a quarter first presented feeling sad or depressed (24.9%) and 12.7% were feeling anxious. The next most common reason was having relationship problems (11.4%), followed by physical health issues (6.6%), school/work problems (6.0%), alcohol or other drug problems (1.7%), sexual health issues (1.6%) and vocational concerns (1.0%). Reasons for presenting varied by age and sex (Box 1). Relationship and school issues decreased with age, while problems with feelings increased, especially for males. For females, health and sexual health reasons for presentation increased with age, while alcohol and other drug and vocational issues become more pressing for males.

Over half (69.3%) of the young people attending headspace did so with high or very high levels of psychological distress (Box 2). This compares with only 9% in the general community aged 16–24 years, and 21% of young people diagnosed with mental disorder in the NSMHW.14 Males aged 12–14 years were most likely to present with the lowest levels of psychological distress, while females aged 15–20 years were most likely to present at the highest level of distress. By early adulthood, the distress levels of males and females converged. These patterns were reflected in the mean K10 scores. For males, these increased from 20.7 (standard deviation [SD], 8.2) for those aged 12–14 years to 26.9 (SD, 9.0) for those aged 21–25 years. The increase for females was less pronounced, from 25.7 (SD, 9.4) to 27.7 (SD, 9.1) for those aged 12–14 years and 21–25 years, respectively. Only the younger boys had a mean in the moderate range for the K10; means for all other age groups were in the high-distress range.

Stage of illness development reflected the expected age-related trajectory using a population health approach based on the spectrum of mental health interventions21 (Box 3). Overall, there were 14.6% of clients with no mental disorder, 39.6% with mild to moderate symptoms, 16.9% with subthreshold diagnosis, 18.8% with full-threshold diagnosis, 3.5% with periods of remission, and 6.4% with serious and ongoing mental disorder. With increasing age, there were fewer clients in the no mental disorder and mild to moderate groups, relative stability in the subthreshold group, and increased proportions in the full-threshold diagnosis, remission, and serious or ongoing disorder categories.

These trends were confirmed by self-report of whether prior mental health care had been received. Overall, a third of clients reported never previously seeing a mental health professional. The proportion declined with age: 51.6% of 12–14-year-olds, 41.9% of 15–17-year-olds, 31.5% of 18–20-year-olds, and 26.4% of 21–25-year-olds.

Twenty-nine per cent of clients were estimated by clinicians to have full-threshold, remission, or serious and ongoing disorder, yet almost a third of these had no actual clinical diagnosis recorded at presentation, and a further 6.7% were reported as diagnosis not yet assessed. The most common diagnoses recorded were mood disorders (28.2%), followed by anxiety disorders (17.3%), adjustment disorder (4.3%), personality disorders (2.7%), developmental disorders (2.3%), substance use disorders (1.8%), psychotic disorders (1.6%) and eating disorders (1.2%).

Self-reported days out of role in the previous 2 weeks revealed a trend of increasing disability due to mental health problems with age. This was most pronounced for males, who were most likely to report no days out of role when aged 12–14 years (55.5%), decreasing to 44.5% for those aged 21–25 years. For females, this decrease was less pronounced, from 41.2% for those aged 12–14 years to 38.4% for 21–25-year-olds. Overall, 40.6% of headspace clients reported no days out of role, 22.8% reported 1–3 days, 17.8% reported 4–6 days, 6.2% reported 7–9 days, and 12.5% reported more than 10 days out of role in the past fortnight.

Social and vocational functioning, as reported by service providers, showed a similar pattern. The proportions of clients with serious or major impairment (SOFAS scores < 50) were 11.2%, 11.9%, 17.0% and 19.4% for males in each of the ascending age groups, respectively; and 8.1%, 10.0%, 12.3% and 12.6% for females. The mean SOFAS scores were similar across age and sex and closest to the anchor defined as “Moderate difficulty in social, occupational, or school functioning (eg, few friends, conflicts with peers or co-workers)”.

Discussion

These are the first data that describe the young people presenting to headspace centres across Australia. Such information is timely, as the initiative is now established and attracting national and international interest. Therefore, it is important to examine whether headspace centres are being accessed by their intended target group.

The results show that almost two-thirds of headspace clients are female, which partly reflects the sex difference in the distribution of mood and anxiety disorders for this age group within the Australian population.14 However, in the future, headspace will need to respond more effectively to mental ill health in young men, which typically manifests through substance misuse and behavioural problems, conditions that can mask underlying emotional disorders. The higher proportion of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander clients, compared with their proportional representation in the overall population, indicates the need for mental health support in this population group and that the youth-friendly focus of headspace centres may be attractive to young Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. In contrast, there is a lower proportion of clients born outside Australia compared with their proportional representation in the overall population, which suggests that some of these demographic groups may still experience significant barriers to service use.

That a third of the young adult headspace clients were not engaged in education, employment or training indicates the vulnerability of youth with mental health issues to disengagement from vocational opportunities. This is a situation that must be addressed, particularly during the current period of growing unemployment.22

headspace is serving young people outside major metropolitan areas — an excellent outcome for Australia, which struggles to provide an effective mental health service response in regional and rural areas.23 There has been a deliberate strategy to locate headspace centres in regional areas, with the aim of eventually providing national coverage so that all young people have reasonable access to services.

The presenting issues for young people attending headspace centres are primarily problems with how they feel, mostly related to feeling depressed or anxious. The initiative was set up to better respond to the need for care for such high-prevalence mental ill health in young people. However, formal diagnosis of mental disorder by an appropriately qualified clinician is available for only a small proportion of clients. This partly reflects the multidisciplinary nature of the headspace workforce, many of whom are not trained in formal diagnosis and who use psychotherapeutic approaches that are not diagnosis driven. It also suggests the need for an expanded diagnostic approach that incorporates clinician assessment of at-risk and subthreshold conditions.24 Over half the young people presenting were in the early stages of the development of mental disorder, having mild to moderate or subthreshold symptoms, as specifically targeted by the initiative. Nevertheless, almost 20% had an established disorder and about 10% had a serious ongoing disorder, showing the wide range of clinical presentations that headspace centres need to accommodate.

This description of the presenting characteristics of young people accessing headspace centres suggests that the initiative is mostly achieving its aim to improve service access early in the development of mental illness, although there are demographic groups where access needs to be improved. Further analyses of the new minimum dataset are planned, to examine the types of services that headspace clients are receiving and to determine whether the approach is making a difference to their mental health and wellbeing. Importantly, a process to obtain follow-up data 3 months after young people have received their last service was implemented several months after the initial implementation of the new minimum dataset, and these outcome data will be available for analysis early in 2014. Such analyses, and other evaluation efforts, are required to determine whether headspace is delivering on the aims of this innovative initiative.

1 Proportion of headspace clients reporting each main reason for presentation, by sex and age group

Male


Female


12–14 years

15–17 years

18–20 years

21–25 years

12–14 years

15–17 years

18–20 years

21–25 years


Proportion of total male or female clients

13.4%

30.4%

27.3%

28.9%

11.5%

36.8%

27.1%

24.7%

Reason for presenting

Feelings

62.3%

66.7%

73.8%

76.3%

67.5%

71.9%

70.2%

72.6%

Relationships

19.6%

14.1%

9.3%

8.0%

19.6%

13.3%

8.7%

7.8%

School/work

16.2%

10.2%

4.2%

3.9%

9.9%

6.2%

3.4%

4.0%

Physical health

1.1%

3.4%

4.6%

5.5%

2.4%

5.2%

12.0%

11.8%

Alcohol/drugs

0.6%

3.6%

4.8%

4.3%

0.2%

0.5%

0.9%

1.1%

Vocational

0.1%

1.6%

3.1%

1.9%

0.1%

0.4%

0.9%

0.6%

Sexual health

0

0.4%

0.3%

0.1%

0.3%

2.6%

3.9%

1.6%

2 Proportion of headspace clients at each level of psychological distress, by age group and sex

Age group (years)

3 Proportion of headspace clients at each stage of illness, by age group and sex

Age group (years)

Coping support factors among Australians affected by terrorism: 2002 Bali bombing survivors speak

The 2002 Bali bombing remains the largest single act of terrorism to have directly affected Australians.1 Such atrocities pose serious challenges to the resilience of survivors, and to the health services charged with their care. Raphael and colleagues highlighted the limited available evidence to guide practice with survivors of the 2002 bombing, including those bereaved by the attack.2 These individuals may experience the interplay of trauma and grief symptoms and have complex, evolving needs over time.2,3

Since the attacks on the World Trade Center and other United States targets on 11 September 2001, there has been an increased research focus on understanding the recovery trajectories and health risk factors of terrorism survivors.4 However, virtually no studies have sought the views of survivors themselves regarding factors that support optimal coping and recovery. Such advice can uniquely inform emergency and health planners about survivor needs.5 Drawing on the experiences of Australians directly affected by terrorism, the aims of this study were (i) to identify factors that would support the coping of similarly impacted groups, and (ii) to determine whether advocated coping supports vary according to demographic, physical and mental health, incident-exposure and bereavement variables.

Methods

Subjects and administration

This cross-sectional convenience sample consisted of individuals who had experienced personal exposure and/or bereavement related to the 2002 bombing and had attended at least one session with a New South Wales Ministry of Health therapeutic program. The Bali Recovery Program offered home-based outreach, psychoeducation sessions, and individual or family-based therapy and maintenance.2 Survey participants completed computer-assisted telephone interviews between 9 July and 22 November 2010. Surveys were completed in 45–55 minutes and were conducted by professional interviewers from the NSW Health Survey Program, who also did the transcriptions. Telephone surveys were used to be consistent with other samples in a wider study of disaster-resilience factors.6 The validity of telephone-based interviews to assess stress and anxiety conditions has been demonstrated.7

Measures

Participants responded to closed-ended questions to measure independent variables, and to open-ended items to explore their experiences regarding the 2002 bombing and post-incident experiences. Consistent with Krippendorff,8 we conducted a qualitative content analysis of participant responses to this question: “Based on what you have observed, what do you believe would help other people cope best after an experience like the one you went through?”

Participant-advocated coping supports were examined against several independent variables: demographic; physical and mental health (self-rated physical health, psychological distress, trauma symptoms and mental health diagnosis); incident-exposure and loss (presence in Bali and bereavement type); a validated item measuring self-rated physical health;9 and past-month psychological distress measured using the Kessler Psychological Distress Scale, where scores range from 10 to 50 and high scores (≥ 22) indicate significant risk of a mental health condition.10 The Primary Care Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) Screen measured past-month trauma symptoms specific to Bali bombing-related experiences. Each scale item corresponds to a specific PTSD symptom (re-experiencing, numbing, avoidance or hyperarousal), with two or more symptoms indicating possible PTSD.11 Mental health diagnoses constituted any diagnosis received from a mental health specialist since the bombing.

Response coding

All transcripts for the responses were reviewed independently by two researchers, to develop a coding frame for the analysis based on thematic content. There was high concordance between these two independently established coding frames. Ten coping support themes were found to accommodate all responses, but could be subsumed under four primary themes: professional help and counselling; social support; government response and policy; and personal coping strategies (Box 1).

Data analysis

Two researchers not previously involved in the analysis independently coded the entire dataset using the agreed coding frame. As with the coding frame, these data were coded manually. The inter-rater reliability of the coded sets was high (κ = 0.88). There were no significant differences between the coding for the four primary themes. When scoring items to determine prevalence, if a respondent made multiple comments in the same primary category, this was only counted once.

All independent variables were dichotomised for analysis: residential location (metropolitan or regional, by postcode); marital status (married or de facto, or non-partnered); presence in Bali (present during or shortly after bombing, or not present); and bereavement type (first-degree relative, or non-relative). Respondent age was bimodally distributed and categorised as younger (20–43 years) or older (51–73 years). We used established clinical cut-offs to categorise psychological distress: Kessler Psychological Distress Scale, low (10–21) or high (22–50); and trauma symptoms: Primary Care PTSD Screen, low (0–1 symptom) or high (2–4 symptoms).10,11 We used χ2 tests to test for significant differences in the prevalence of advocated coping supports by the covariates.

Ethics approval

Ethics committees of the University of Western Sydney (H7143) and the Northern Sydney Local Health District approved the study protocol.

Results

Of the 81 individuals contacted, 55 (68%) participated. Of these, 32 were women, and the mean respondent age was 50 years. Twenty-one respondents were present in Bali during or soon after the bombing, and 54 were bereaved due to the incident. Respondents provided a total of 114 comments. The average interval between the 2002 bombing and the interview was 7 years and 11 months. No significant differences were found between the respondent group (n = 55) and the total Bali Recovery Program population (n = 115) regarding mean age (P = 0.38) or sex (P = 0.39).

Advocated coping supports

Box 1 presents the descriptions and prevalence of the four primary support themes: receipt of professional psychological help (counselling) (29/55); social support (24/55); proactive responses or policies from government agencies (22/55); and personal attitude or coping strategies (18/55). Some quotes from respondents are provided in Box 2.

The prevalence of the 10 coping support subthemes is shown in Box 3. The most commonly advocated subtheme of professional help was individual or family-based counselling (as distinct from group interventions), being identified by 26 of the 55 respondents.

Definitely counselling, I wasn’t a great believer in it but after that [Bali] everyone needs to (62-year-old woman).

Three men recommended having a clear option of a limited number of consultations (or later check-ups) to get information about potential effects in order to prepare for these.

To be told as early as possible how they will feel and how they are going to feel in future. Just leave it at that (36-year-old man).

Social support was seen as pivotal in recovery: family and friend support (17/55); sharing thoughts and feelings with other survivors (7/55) and community support (eg, workplace, clubs, general public) (7/55).

In an average situation the best support is your family and friends. Counsellors are OK but once you are out the door you need someone you can talk to and this is family and friends.

Opportunities to share with other survivors appeared to provide a special form of solace: “Some of the people on the outside don’t understand how you feel”.

The largest subtheme regarding government response and policy (21/55) related to service access, primarily counselling. Comments emphasised the value of a service system that was integrated and easy to navigate:

It would be wonderful if there was a number you could ring and find out what would be available to you and what currently exists.

Particular comment was made regarding the reassurance of knowing that established services (eg, counselling) would remain available and not be withdrawn at an arbitrary point. Some people (4/55) reported that memorial services and permanent sites were invaluable, the latter providing a physical place where people could gather, sharing both grief and positive remembrance.

Respondents observed that affected groups would be well served by improved coordination and communication, particularly in the early post-incident phase:

When we tried to get on the flight to Bali we were told we couldn’t because they were restricted. There was a battle to get a flight and there was no one in Bali to meet people when they arrived to help them.

Two elements of personal coping were identified as being likely to assist others: specific behaviour and tasks (11/55) and personal attitudes (12/55). The former included physical exercise, maintaining a simple daily routine, keeping occupied, and expressive outlets such as journal writing. The latter included not giving up, living well to honour those lost, continuing to work on mental health, and being able to accept the losses, including acquired disabilities.

Independent variables

Advocated coping supports were analysed by demographic, health, exposure and bereavement variables (Box 4). Women were significantly more likely to endorse the need for proactive government response (P = 0.03). Men were more likely to advocate personal coping strategies (P < 0.01). Those diagnosed with a mental health condition after the incident were significantly less likely to advocate social support as a support factor for others (P = 0.04).

Discussion

Our findings highlight several areas that can inform both the type and targeting of support initiatives, and current policy regarding access to health and other services. Receiving professional mental health services was the most frequently advocated coping support process and did not differ significantly based on demographic, health, exposure or bereavement factors. This suggests that when services are proactive and event-specific their tolerance and perceived benefits may be similar across future recipient groups.

It was notable that women were significantly more likely to advocate proactive government responses, while men generally saw personal attitudes and responses as pivotal to effective coping. These outcomes may reflect broader findings regarding sex-related stress coping, with men and women tending to employ problem-focused and emotion-focused (affiliative) coping strategies, respectively.12 Such findings may have implications for target interventions. For example, while no differences by sex were evident regarding the advocacy of counselling per se, a small number of men expressed preferences for counselling or group work focused on symptom education (what to expect) or flexibly delivered contact (eg, a periodic check-up). As men are also more reluctant to attend mental health services in general,13 future survivors may benefit from comprehensive stepped-care services that include brief intervention and education options.14

The strong advocacy of social support processes is consistent with other findings of an association between perceived support and lower mental health morbidity among survivors.15 Disaster losses and specific trauma effects (eg, withdrawal, depression) often degrade interpersonal relationships over time. The ability to actively maintain social support in such contexts may be highly protective.16 The finding that survivors with a mental health diagnosis were significantly less likely to advocate social supports may indicate that they perceive their available supports to be insufficient or that their capacity to access them is compromised due to mental health related issues. Support maintenance may therefore constitute an important early intervention. A recently developed program, Skills for Psychological Recovery, teaches disaster survivors key recovery skills (eg, managing reactions, problem solving, rebuilding social supports) and could be adapted for terrorism survivors.17

This study has several limitations. Its findings are cross-sectional, and coping support perceptions may change over time. The response rate could potentially introduce responder bias, although no significant differences by age or sex were observed between the study and total program samples. Participants had varying contact with a therapeutic program, which may have inflated their advocacy of counselling. Importantly, such advocacy reflects direct experience of this process and its perceived value in this context. While qualitative data are often context-dependent, these findings are likely to be relevant to other Australians directly affected by terrorism and the policy and practice frameworks intended to support them.

1 Coding categories for responses to the key question: “What would help other people cope best after an experience like the one you went through?”(n = 55)

Primary theme

Expanded description (subtheme)

No. of
respondents*


Professional help

Counselling/mental health consultation: receipt of professional counselling; mental health consultation(s); group information sessions

29

Support group: formal groups led by professional mental health workers

Social support

Family and friends: able to talk with and confide in family and friends; maintaining support relationships

24

Other survivors: share thoughts and feelings with others directly affected/bereaved

Workplace/community: support from workplaces, clubs, wider community

Government response and policy

Early communication/coordination: proactive response by government agencies; early post-incident coordination and communication; better regulations (ie, protections) regarding media

22

Access support services: accessible, integrated information detailing health/welfare services available (eg, counselling, financial assistance)

Memorial services/sites: services; creation of permanent sites

Personal coping

Personal attitude: positive/adaptive attitudes; willingness to get personal or professional help

18

Coping strategies: adaptive behaviours (eg, keeping busy, maintaining a simple daily routine, returning to work, engaging in tasks supporting reflection and restoration)


* Respondents could report in more than one primary category.

2 Selected responses, by theme

Professional help

“Being able to see someone that has knowledge about the mental health side and the after affects, an idea of what mental health effects are likely to take place.”

Social support

“People being there for you, being where you are that day, and refraining from telling you what to do, how to feel.”

Government response

“These memorials are important. My children, nephews and nieces visit them regularly.”

“For me, it was being able to know the circumstances of their death.”

“Putting some restrictions on the media, on how they deal with things and allowing people their privacy if that’s what they want.”

Personal coping

“I believe that you should try and accept it, which is very hard, and if you don’t it is very difficult to get over it.”

3 Prevalence of advocated coping supports, by subthemes (n = 55)

4 Prevalence of advocated coping supports by demographic, health and incident-related factors (n = 55)

No. of respondents


Covariates

Total

Professional help

Social support

Government response

Personal coping


Sex

Male

23

13

10

5

13

Female

32

16

14

17*

5*

Age

Younger (20–43 yrs)

22

13

8

11

8

Older (51–73 yrs)

33

16

16

11

10

Location

Metropolitan

35

17

16

14

13

Regional

20

12

8

8

5

Married/de facto

No

15

9

4

8

5

Yes

40

20

20

14

13

Good self-rated health

No

10

7

2

2

2

Yes

45

22

22

20

16

Present in Bali

No

34

19

16

16

9

Yes

21

10

8

6

9

Bereavement type

Non-family

17

10

7

5

5

Family

37

19

17

17

13

Psychological distress§

Low

43

25

20

17

20

High

12

4

4

5

3

Trauma symptoms

Low

28

18

13

11

11

High

27

11

11

11

7

Mental health diagnosis

No

34

18

19

13

11

Yes

21

11

5*

9

7

Total respondent group

55

29

24

22

18


* P < 0.05. At time of or within 48 hours of bombing. n = 54; family bereavement defined as loss of first-degree relative. § Kessler Psychological Distress Scale: low (range, 10–21); high (range, 22–50). Primary Care Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder Screen: low (0–1 symptoms); high (2–4 symptoms).

Four centuries of suicide in opera

For suicide is not simply a medical “problem”, or even a public health “problem” — it is a complex cultural and moral concern that is deeply embedded in social and historical narratives and is unlikely to be greatly altered by any form of health intervention.1

In the late 19th century, the founder of modern sociology, Émil Durkheim, showed that suicide rates differed between countries.2 He found that, in Europe and Scandinavia, the order for countries ranked from lowest to highest suicide rate was Italy, England, Norway, Sweden and France, and recent research has confirmed that this order has remained the same.3 The consistently different suicide rates of different countries suggests that culture influences these rates. The impact is presumably bidirectional — culture (in essence, the shared products of human society4) shapes our lives and, over time, our lives shape culture.

Opera is one of the many strands of aesthetic culture in human society. Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo (Orpheus), which was debuted in 1607, is regarded as the first successful opera; about 30 000 operas have been written subsequently, most never staged.5 Fortunately, the texts (libretti) of produced operas are available in print and amenable to examination. Thus, apart from having artistic appeal, operas are able to provide snapshots of librettists’ ideas about emotions and reactions to adversity at particular times in history. It has been argued that opera, like other art forms, “reflects contemporary beliefs about interpersonal relationships and society”.6

With the task of entertaining an audience, which may involve a degree of exaggeration and the expectation that good will triumph over evil, the librettist generally strives to present a story which is plausible to the audience. To this extent, opera has the potential to offer a valid perspective of the attitudes toward suicide at specific times.

The topic of suicide in opera has received only modest interest in the scientific literature. One qualitative study6 and one quantitative study7 are available, and these are both dated. The author of the qualitative study opined that, while suicide was common, “attempted suicides” were “missing from the operatic stage”.6 The quantitative study, published in 1971, was cross-sectional and found that, in leading opera houses throughout the world, suicide featured in 26% of the different operas and in 40% of the most popular operas.7

Our aim in this study was to examine the depiction of completed suicide as well as non-fatal suicidal acts and suicidal thought in Western opera over the past four centuries, with a view to characterising such behaviour as conceived by librettists and received by the public, and as an indication (at least in part) of more widespread contemporaneous beliefs about suicide.

Methods

We examined all of the operas that debuted from 1607 to 2006, inclusive, that were listed in a popular opera guide published in 2007.5 This guide provides a synopsis of each opera. If further details were required, we consulted comprehensive accounts.810 We considered the overall period 1607–2006 as well as separate 100-year periods (1607–1706, 1707–1806, 1807–1906 and 1907–2006). We collected data on completed suicides, non-fatal suicidal acts and suicidal thoughts, and on the circumstances of these and whether there was evidence of an underlying mental disorder. We recorded the sex of the characters involved and, for completed suicide, the method.

Although our main focus was suicidal behaviour and thought, we also recorded other forms of violence (such as war, murder, rape and kidnap), and identified operas in which murder preceded suicide.

Results

We identified 337 operas in the period of interest. Over those 400 years, there was at least one suicide in 74 operas (22%), mostly among female characters, who accounted for 56% of cases. Non-fatal suicidal acts or suicidal thoughts were found in 48 operas (14%), predominantly among male characters cutting (including stabbing), who accounted for 57% of cases. In 112 operas (33%), there was completed suicide and/or non-fatal suicidal acts and suicidal thoughts. The suicide-related events in operas in the separate 100-year periods, and overall, are shown in Box 1.

Cutting (including stabbing) was the most common method of suicide in opera (26 cases); this was the case for both male (15) and female (11) characters. Other methods included poisoning (15 cases; six male, nine female), drowning (10 cases; two male, eight female), hanging (four cases; two male, two female), asphyxiation (four cases; all female), “supernatural” methods (four cases; two male, two female), immolation (three cases; two male, one female), jumping from a height (two cases; both female), shooting (one male), blunt trauma (one male) and refusing life-saving treatment (one female). Mass suicide occurred in two operas.

In 178 operas (53%), there were other forms of violence — murder, rape, torture and arson were not infrequent events — and it was noteworthy that many operas were set during periods of war. Murder preceded suicide in 12 operas.

Discussion

Over the course of four centuries, a third of all of the operas we examined featured completed suicide, non-fatal suicidal acts or suicidal thoughts. Our finding that completed suicide was depicted in 22% of operas is consistent with rates of 25%6 and 26%7 reported in earlier studies. However, our finding that non-fatal suicidal acts or suicidal thoughts were represented in 14% of operas is in contrast to that of an earlier report that found no evidence of “attempted suicide” in opera.6 We did not separate non-fatal suicidal acts from suicidal thoughts, but these appear to have been represented about equally, and we identified at least a modest number of non-fatal suicidal acts by characters in operas (examples include Atys in Lully’s Atys, Idamante in Idomeneo, and Andronico in Handel’s Tamerlano).

It is intriguing that cutting was the most common method of completed suicide for both male and female characters, as this is not the case in real life (notwithstanding possible differences in method over time, and according to culture). The World Health Organization mortality database suggests that, from the 1950s, shooting, hanging, jumping from a height and poisoning have been the most frequent methods, and that violent methods are more frequent among men than women.11 Although we can not be certain why cutting is the most common method in opera, presumably it has greater dramatic potential onstage, which would appeal to both the librettist and the audience.

It is also of interest that female characters accounted for most completed suicides in opera (56%) and that non-fatal acts or thoughts were more common for male characters (57%); both findings are a reversal of the sex differences encountered in real life. Again, we can only speculate about the reasons, but it is arguable that this may have been influenced by the librettist’s and audience’s sex role perceptions. Completed suicide may have been somehow more socially acceptable for women than men, for whom it may have represented a sign of weakness.

Importantly, without exception, the suicide or non-fatal suicidal acts or suicidal thoughts described in our opera sample immediately followed an undesirable event or situation, such as loss of a loved person, loss of position or authority or imminent submission to a dominant force, rather than occurring in the context of an underlying mental disorder (as much as one can recognise such disorders from libretti). Familiar examples include Romeo’s suicide in Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette (Box 2) and Cio-Cio-San’s in Puccini’s Madama Butterfly (Box 3). It is possible that the range of symptoms and signs satisfying criteria for a mental disorder are often too difficult for the librettist to accurately and persuasively depict. Nevertheless, the notion that suicide does not invariably occur in the setting of mental disorder has been articulated in previous publications.12,13 Our own group has developed the concept of “predicament suicide”, in which we have delineated two major predicaments that may contribute to suicide.14,15 One predicament is untreated or unresponsive painful mental disorder and the other is an intolerable social situation. Completed suicide in opera appears to occur in response to predicaments in the latter category.

It is worth commenting briefly on the higher percentages of suicide and non-fatal suicidal acts and suicidal thoughts in the 18th and 19th centuries compared with the 20th and early 21st centuries. This finding could be attributed to changes in the attitude to suicide. In the early 18th century, suicide was considered a sin by the church and a crime under the law. Later that century, suicide shifted from a moral to a medical (mental illness) problem, and then came the “standard view” proposing that suicide was not always the result of mental disorder.11 The Romantic Movement favoured notions like suicide as an escape from a cruel world and a method of solving painful love problems. The new paradigm commenced about the time of publication of Goethe’s Die Leiden des jungen Werther (The sorrows of young Werther) in 177416 (which led to a large number of “copycat” suicides17) and the beginning of the French Revolution, and continued to the end of the 19th century. During the 20th century, suicide was strongly cast as a mental disorder rather than a reaction to a distressing event or situation.1,3,1820 This may have reduced librettists’ use of suicide and related behaviour in operas over the past century.

Notwithstanding these historical fluctuations, what is clear is that over many centuries in Western and other cultures, suicide has been represented as an option when individuals have been faced with various forms of severe loss or other distressing situations. In our earlier work, we found numerous examples of suicide in response to stress, without apparent mental disorder, in the folk-stories of the ancient people of Greece21 and Germany and Finland,22 in satirical tales of 14th century Italy in Boccaccio’s The Decameron,23 and in more recent literary fiction.24

It would be fascinating to ascertain whether suicide rates in opera have varied according to country, in much the same way that suicide rates in the real world vary in different countries. However, this would be very difficult because librettists and composers are mobile people — many are born in one country, settle in another and have their work set in or first performed in yet another. Our study is essentially of the “opera of Europe”.

A limitation of our study is that only 337 operas were examined, and many thousands have been written. However, our sample was extracted, in toto, from a recent opera guide whose author, Matthew Boyden, set out to represent all eras of opera history, and “concentrated on the ones you’re likeliest to encounter either on disc or on stage”.5

Well meaning colleagues and musicians offered us lists of operas in which completed suicide, attempted suicide or suicidal thinking featured, but as these would have introduced bias we put them aside and included only those operas mentioned in Boyden’s text.

Apart from providing a glimpse into community beliefs about suicidal behaviours and data about changes in beliefs over time, our findings prompt speculation about the impact of opera depictions of suicide on real-world suicidal behaviour. There is ongoing debate about the influence of depictions of suicide in various media and the arts on subsequent copycat suicides.25 It may be too adventurous to suggest that the portrayal of suicide in opera will directly contribute to self-harming behaviour of members of the community on a large scale (let alone suggest that the drop in opera depictions of suicide in the 20th century was due to librettists’ potentially heightened social responsibility). Although not lacking exposure — it is estimated that there will be over 24 500 opera performances globally in the 2012–2013 season26 — opera is struggling to retain, let alone broaden its audience.27 Opera may not be as popular or potentially influential as, say, a blockbuster movie. Nevertheless, it is staggering to contemplate that a full third of operas written over a period of 400 years have featured completed suicide, non-fatal suicidal acts or suicidal thoughts. Might not these depictions affect the behaviour of a vulnerable member of the audience or a brittle person who can nowadays view opera in DVD and other formats? The “Papageno effect”, denoting preventive suicide action, is worth mentioning here. This term was derived from Mozart’s 1791 opera, Die Zauberflote (The magic flute), referring to a situation where Papageno, a young man in love, becomes suicidal on believing he has lost his love, but copes following his friends’ intervention (Box 4).28

In conclusion, the representation of suicide in opera is too prominent to be ignored. While many opera buffs may focus on the musical elements rather than the action and libretti of this art form, the depiction of suicide in operatic works adds to our understanding of the cultural dimensions of suicide over time, and thus to our overall understanding of this tragic outcome.

1 Operas with completed suicide, non-fatal suicidal acts and suicidal thoughts,
by 100-year periods

Operas with


Period
(calendar years)

Number of operas

Completed suicide

Non-fatal
suicidal acts or suicidal thoughts

Completed suicide and/or
non-fatal suicidal acts and
suicidal thoughts


1607–1706

13

3 (23%)

2 (15%)

5 (38%)

1707–1806

42

4 (10%)

15 (36%)

17 (40%)

1807–1906

141

40 (28%)

19 (13%)

55 (39%)

1907–2006

141

27 (19%)

12 (9%)

35 (25%)

Total

337

74 (22%)

48 (14%)

112 (33%)

2 Deborah Riedel as Juliette and Stephen Ibbotson as Roméo in Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette

Libretto by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré.
1992 Opera Australia production. Photo: Kiren Chang.

3 Jennifer Barnes as Cio-Cio-San in Puccini’s Madama Butterfly

Libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.
1999 Opera Australia production. Photo: Marco Bok.

4 Warwick Fyfe as Papageno in Mozart’s Die Zauberflote
(The magic flute)

Libretto by Emanuel Schikaneder.
2009 Opera Australia, production. Photo: Branco Gaico.

Psychotropic medication in pregnancy

To the Editor: The report by O’Donnell and colleagues on the increasing rate of mental illness in parents of infants highlights a very important issue and is consistent with overseas studies that suggest there
is increasing use of psychotropic medication in pregnancy.1,2

To address the lack of information on the safety of psychotropic medication in pregnancy, particularly the safety of antipsychotics, we have established the National Register
of Antipsychotic Medication in Pregnancy. Women are prospectively or retrospectively recruited to the register through referrals from health professionals or self-referral.3 So far, 237 women have consented to join the register. We continue to recruit women taking antipsychotics in pregnancy and pregnant women with mental illness who have elected not to take antipsychotic medication, from all over Australia.

Our data reveal that the women included on the register so far use antipsychotic medication during pregnancy for a wide range of disorders. This includes psychotic disorders (42.5% of those currently on the register), bipolar disorders (42%), depression (10%), anxiety disorders (3.5%), obsessive compulsive disorder (1%), and borderline personality disorder (1%). This is a small but growing dataset, with potential limitations on its interpretability such as potential selection bias in the sample, but it provides some insight into the current use of antipsychotic medications during pregnancy in Australia. With use of antipsychotics expanding beyond psychotic disorders, an increasing incidence of mental illness in new parents,1 and the knowledge that most women with mental illness become mothers,4 there is a growing need to understand the safety of antipsychotics in pregnancy.

Dealing with disclosure in patients with borderline personality traits

To the Editor: Mental health patients with borderline personality traits are frequently not informed of their diagnosis, both in the inpatient ward and in the outpatient clinic. Often, however, this axis II finding (according to the Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders) is clearly documented in their file. Why the disparity?

Perhaps this is because the decision to disclose the psychiatric opinion to the patient is arbitrary, owing to the fact that the diagnosis may be made in just one sitting and personality traits are arguably within the spectrum of normal. Often the patient is left in the dark and only sees light when a brave but irate psychiatrist decides that their current presentation warrants a revision of the existing diagnosis to the personality disorder.

Is it fair to the patient with borderline personality traits that we should, as colleagues in health care, collude in keeping the truth away from the unsuspecting person
walking through the door?

One problem in disclosure is that the personality attributes of patients with borderline traits are often considered egosyntonic.1 This means that the patient’s inner mind agrees with the observable, externalised behaviour on his or her part. There is therefore little or no reason to question or challenge his or her own impulsive, polarised thoughts and behaviours. Telling a patient that what had seemed perfectly acceptable for years is now improper will probably raise doubts regarding the doctor. So the patient is not provided with that piece of information, in a tacit hope that the therapeutic alliance is preserved, but at the expense of further destructive behaviour on the part of the patient and labelling by health care professionals.

In these days of defensive medicine, registrars and consultants in psychiatry would most likely keep such information from the patient, to whom disclosure is not obligatory.

Further research investigating the therapeutic benefits and harms of disclosure will be an area of much interest in the future. For now, there seems to be a reasonable argument
in picking either side of the fence.